The First Duty
by cate's corner
Summary: A 'missing scene' from Conversion. Throwing that grenade was one thing, but living with it is quite another. Luckily for Evan, there's a friend who understands what he's going through.


The First Duty by catescorner

Oh, I do like writing these missing scenes! Here's the latest, from Conversion - and I know all you Lorne lovers will know why! Our favourite Major, all covered in dirt. Oh, _yes_!

More seriously, I've always wondered how Evan would react to throwing that grenade, and why he didn't go with Sheppard and the others on that second 'egg hunt'.

Again, I've used a bit of licence with Evan's background, in terms of his military career, but here are my thoughts on how he comes to terms with losing two members of his team, for the first time, under his command. I hope you enjoy!

The First Duty

Even under this pleasant hum of medication, John Sheppard still felt a watchful presence beside him – his eyes widening in surprise and then shocked concern, when he recognized who it was. Not Beckett, making his latest checks, or his team, bringing him some edible food, but… _Lorne_?

Not the second in command he'd come to know, either, but one that had seemingly aged overnight. The boyish face was pale, gaunt with exhaustion. Normally bright blue eyes were worryingly dull.

'_Damn_, _he looks like I feel,_' John thought, frowning even more as he started to understand why. Teyla had already told him about Walker and Stevens, and how they'd died, and… oh, no. Oh, _hell_.

_Now_ it fell into place. _Now_ he understood the grief, and anger, that was etched into Evan Lorne's eyes Losing men under your command was hard enough, but to know their deaths came from _your_ hand – yeah, as he continued to study the haggard face beside him, John knew that feeling, all too well.

This was Lorne's first time, though, and… damn it, what did he say now? What _could_ he say? His XO had been forced to sacrifice two members of his team, because of him, and those _damn_ bugs, and -

"Yes, sir. If I never see those things again, I won't be sorry."

Realizing, too late, that he'd thought that curse aloud, _and_ that Lorne had heard it, John winced. The already painful dilemma of thinking what to say to him, how to apologise, had just become even harder.

He had to make that apology somehow, though. He owed that to Lorne, at the very least. And he owed it even more to the families of two brave Marines, who'd given their lives to save his.

"I'm sorry too, Evan… I heard what happened, to Walker and Stevens," he said at last, wishing he could say more, _do_ more than lie in this damn bed, to take the pain out of his XO's eyes. "If there'd been any other way, for Beckett to find that cure for me-"

"…he'd have found it," Evan finished for him, offering his CO a sadly understanding smile, his turn to pause now, thinking what to say next, before he re-met still strained, awkward eyes. "But it would have been worse, sir, if they'd died for nothing. If _you_'_d_ still died too."

It was rare, if not impossible, to leave John Sheppard lost for words. But Evan Lorne had managed it. It left his CO grateful, and humbled, and, if still in sad recognition, it finally let him smile back too – one that faded into an anxious frown as Evan swayed slightly, rubbing a shaky hand over his eyes. And he hadn't so much sat down on that chair beside him, more dead-dropped onto it.

Evan had clearly noticed that worry, since he now smiled, tiredly, through a cavernous yawn.

"Sorry, sir. Double shift. Third one this week, I… um, guess it's catching up on me."

"Aye, son. I keep tellin' ye to get some bloody sleep," came an unmistakeable voice behind him – the exasperated mutterings continuing as Carson pressed a bottle of orange juice into Evan's hand, and favoured him with his most fearsome glare. "Now drink some o' this, before you keel over. I tell ye, lad, you're gettin' as bad as _him_!"

Waiting, wisely, until he'd moved away, Evan took several mouthfuls before meeting his CO's eyes – returning the wry smile he found there with a suitably rueful, '_well_-_that_'_s_-_me_-_busted-_' shrug.

After what they'd been through, it was a welcome moment of humour. But it passed too quickly. And Evan's voice, when he finally spoke, was tellingly quiet, still betraying the strain he'd been under.

"I know I had to throw that grenade, sir, but… well, it doesn't make it any easier to live with."

"No, Evan. I know it doesn't," John agreed just as quietly, giving his XO's arm a rallying squeeze. He knew exactly what his second was going through. That, at least, might bring him some comfort. Now he just had to tell him, and re-live his own haunting memory.

"I felt the same about Colonel Sumner, and the decision _I_ had to make," he finally continued, encouraged by the compassion in Evan's eyes to reveal, for the first time, that decision's full horror.

"When I found him, he was almost gone. In agony, too. That Wraith queen had pretty much sucked him dry."

Pausing to collect his thoughts, John then softly re-lived one of the worst moments of his life.

"Then he saw me, and I knew. Before he nodded at me to do it, Evan, I _knew_ I had to take him out. He _wanted_ me to take that killshot, and take him out."

Now it was Evan's turn to stare, stunned silent by this revelation, and its horrific significance. Until now, he'd only known the official version – that John Sheppard had failed to save his CO's life. The rumours, too, of bad blood between them, and that he'd done it on purpose so he could take over as Atlantis' military leader.

Now he knew the truth, how harshly his own CO had been misjudged, and it left him appalled – his instinctive reaction to put that injustice right stopped by a soft voice, and even softer smile.

"No one else needs to know, Evan, it's too late for that. This is just between you, and me, _okay_?"

With too much respect for his CO now to even think of defying him, Evan finally smiled and nodded. Lost in their respective thoughts, neither of them noticed the movement outside John's cubicle – how subtly Carson Beckett drew more screens around it and then quietly moved away, so that they could talk, and heal, in peace.

Talking through painful memories was so much easier when you had comfort food to fall back on. After a week in the Infirmary, there was enough at John Sheppard's bedside to feed a small army. And while his appetite wasn't _quite_ back to normal, he felt hungry enough now to at least try to eat – as relieved as Carson would be that his other, equally badgered charge was doing the same.

At his CO's insistence, Evan Lorne had worked through his share of sandwiches, cake, and cookies – the juice that Carson had given him bringing healthier colour to his face, and clearer focus to his eyes.

It was also encouraging him to talk, and start coming to terms with what he'd been forced to do.

"I knew we were in trouble, sir, as soon as we found that nest. Those damn bugs were everywhere, thousands of them."

"Yeah, I can imagine," John nodded, through a commiserating wince for what his XO had faced – so thankful for Evan Lorne's natural intuition that he'd made his point, and didn't need to pursue it.

Instead, he took a deep breath, regaining his composure, and bracing himself for what was to come.

"When they finally attacked, we just ran. All I could think about was getting your team out of there, I literally threw McKay down that tunnel, yelling at him, yelling at _everyone_, to just keep running. Not to look back, just to keep running to get out of that cave."

A pause. A restless shift on his chair, while he sipped his drink. Yet John didn't push him to continue. This had to be done for Evan Lorne's welfare, not his. At a pace that _he_ felt comfortable with. And knowing that he was about to face its most painful part, his CO had all the time in the world.

As John Sheppard knew, all too painfully well, you couldn't rush healing that was as crucial as this. All you could do was listen without judgment, empathise with the horror of life or death decisions - and wait for the right moment to offer comfort.

And those decisions didn't come any harder, or painful, than the one Evan Lorne had just faced, and that he now softly re-lived.

"Walker and Stevens stayed behind, laying covering fire 'til we were clear," he finally continued – swallowing hard this time, remembering that deafening noise, of gunfire, that unearthly chattering, and its final, horrific conclusion.

"…then it stopped. I pretty much knew what had happened to them, but I still yelled at them to get clear, but all… all I could hear was their screaming-"

As memories of those terrified cries replayed, too vividly, through his mind, Evan's voice trailed away. It had been bad enough the first time, and he'd been on auto pilot then, acting on disciplined instinct – calling an end to the mission, and leading the others back to the gate, without ever glancing back.

But without that rush of life or death adrenalin, the cost of that mission now hit him full force, ploughing through years of desensitising training, to hit the humanity that still existed beyond. And as he sagged into silence, John knew the time had come, finally, for him to respond.

"Evan, for what it's worth, they were probably dead before that grenade exploded."

"…and if they weren't, it was a blessing when it did. Yes, sir, I know," Evan replied quietly, frowning a little, remembering what his CO had shared with him, before the smile gently returned.

"Just as I know what _you_ did was a blessing for Colonel Sumner. More to the point, so did he."

"Yeah, we both did what we had to do. Sumner knew that, and so did Walker and Stevens," John agreed through a proudly relieved smile. It was a relief that Evan had found the connection so quickly, just as he'd known he would. It was a measure of how good he was at his job, anticipating his CO's thoughts and plans before he had to explain them.

Even so, he still felt honour bound to help his XO with the task that every commanding officer silently dreaded.

"You know, I'm going to be laid up for a while yet, so if you want me to write to their folks-"

"Thanks, sir, but… well, I did that while you were getting those eggs," Evan cut in softly, guessing what the proud smile on his CO's face represented, and returning it in gratitude for its support.

"They died under _my_ command, sir. It was my duty to write those letters."

Wondering if he'd ever be more proud of his XO as he was right now, John then nodded, bypassing military protocol for a few more moments, to let simple friendship take its place.

"You gonna be okay?"

It sounded more like a statement than a question, but its response was still the one he'd hoped for – a slight smile, and grateful nod, as his second in command stood, and resolutely squared his shoulders.

"Yes, sir. Yes, I – I will be _now._"

John Sheppard had known that all along, of course. Evan Lorne's resilience had never been in doubt. He'd just needed a friend to talk to. A friend who understood, _really_ understood, what he'd had to do.

Now that he had, his conscience could finally ease its grip, allowing him to make peace with himself – even letting some of that dryly wicked sense of humour make a welcome reappearance.

"I'd better let you get some rest, sir, or I'll have Carson to answer to."

"Yeah, and he's in charge of some _really_ big needles," John agreed, pulling the rueful face of much experience, and grinning when Evan did the same.

Despite the teasing, though, he knew his XO would sleep soundly in his bed tonight - a final glance expressing everything that Evan Lorne needed to say.

'_Thanks_.'

Watching him go, John's smile widened. They'd joined the military under the same oath, to serve their country. To die, if necessary, to protect it. But sometimes the first duty had to be the duty of friendship, _especially_ with friendships as special as these.

Still smiling, he settled back into his pillows and closed his eyes - his conscience clear, and his dreams untroubled.


End file.
